Apart From Ashes
by PrussianGreen
Summary: Recently divorced, Arthur Kirkland, now is stuck in a loop of self-pity and wallowing as he begins to struggle dealing with his two teenage boys. His job also begins to cause a heavy amount of stress in him as a string of murders is now a top priority case for him. Warnings: Rated M for gore and mild swearing and character deaths. FrUK/FACE Family
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Endings**

Large cardboard boxes clustered around the small city house. Sitting on the bottom of the staircase, Alfred watched as unnamed men carried the heavy boxes to the van. The lump in his throat swelled up as each box left the house. He took off his glasses and rubbed them clean with the edge of his pyjama bottoms. It was still early in the morning, the streets weren't as busy as usual and Alfred was glad of that. It meant that he didn't have to watch his neighbours whisper about his family's troubles.

"They're still loading up that truck, eh?" a small hushed voice came from behind him.

"Dude!" Alfred snapped to his feet in sheer fright. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart rate slow back down to its normal rhythm.

His younger twin brother, Matthew, stood with his hands behind his back. "I tried to call for you a second ago but you weren't listening to me. I didn't mean to startle you." He pinged a long stray curl that poked out from the top of his head.

Alfred sighed and sat back down on the step. Leisurely, Matthew sat next to him, tucking his knees under his chin. A small noise came from his brother and troublingly Matthew looked up at the dusty blond boy.

"Are you…" Matthew strained his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Surprised, Alfred whipped at his eyes with his fingertips. "No, I'm not," he lied through watery tears. "I'm too cool to cry."

Matthew smiled towards his brother as his own eyes started to mist. His arm went around his shoulders in a comforting manner. "It's okay," he murmured. "I feel like crying too."

Heavy footsteps dragged themselves from the back room towards the two brothers. Both Matthew and Alfred rubbed their wet eyes to look at the man approaching. The blond hair, bushy eye browed man didn't look in their direction nor did he acknowledge their presence. He instead moved towards the small hooks by the door and pulled a dark leather jacket from one of them. He wrapped the jacket under his arm and started to walk towards the door.

"D-da-" Alfred began.

The suited blond man stood just before the main door. "Your father will take you to lunch today, and then he'll drop you off by my office." He finally looked at the boys, the best attempt at a fake smile on his mouth. "I'll see you later."

He quickly turned away from the boys and walked out through the open door, unintentionally slamming it behind him. The harshness of the door slam made the two boys tighten their eyes.

"At least we won't have to eat his terrible food for lunch," Alfred laughed, trying to make light of the situation.

Matthew let out an awkward chuckle at his brother's attempt at a joke. The laughter between the two was hollow and empty.

Outside their house, was a dirty white moving van. Arthur, the suited man, walked past the men who were carrying large stacks of cardboard boxes, without giving them any notice. Despite not knowing them, he hated how they looked, how they dressed, how they were so happy in their labour job. Inside he cursed them all. He spotted two of them laughing about something, their happiness made Arthur stare them down until they took notice and awkwardly went back to work. He hastily got into his car and drove out of the driveway.

Leaving the two boys pained his already sorrowful heart. He gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove away from his appealing little broken home. However, there was a small part of him which never wanted to drive back there, knowing what awaited him – or more what no longer did await him.

* * *

Francis looked up at the clock. It was nearing seven am, Arthur would be heading to work about now. A sickly feeling set itself inside his gut and he prepared himself to leave. He patted his pockets checking that he had both his keys and wallet. Grabbing his cell phone he punched in some numbers and pressed the sleek black block to his ear.

"Hola, Francis," said a strong voice from the other line.

"It was merely to check that you were still free for this morning?" he asked.

"Si," chimed the voice. "Gilbert and myself will fix your place right up! No problemo!"

Francis sighed and took a step towards a small mirror which hung just by his apartment door. "Merci, mon ami," he said, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I'll give you a call when we're all done," he said happily.

"Yes sure." Francis ran his hand through his sleek blond hair. He took notice to the tiredness in his eyes and grumbled.

"Enjoy your lunch," said the cheery voice.

"Oui," groaned Francis. "Au revoir."

With a heavy grumble in the back of his throat he thrusted the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Using his fingers, he combed his hair and headed out the door with a heavy hearted sigh. He took the stairs down the main door of the building – since the elevator was being repaired.

Entering the parking lot, Francis gave a slight nod to one of his neighbours who was heading to work.

"Mornin'," cheerily said his neighbour.

Francis got into his car, not having enough energy to engage into small talk with his neighbour. It was almost summer time and the inside of his car was hot enough to make him break out in a sweat. He rolled down his front seat window and started to drive towards his old home.

Matthew was still pulling on a fresh shirt when Francis rang the doorbell. The moving van had left around ten minutes ago, leaving the twins alone in their eerily quiet house.

"Alfred! Matthew!" called Francis from outside. "C'est votre pére. Open up!" He rang the doorbell again.

"Alfred! Door!" called Matthew from his room. There was no answer so Matthew called to his brother louder than before.

Impatiently, Francis began pressing the doorbell non-stop. For a second he thought breaking down the door. He knew Arthur was at work as he spotted his car missing from the drive way. While the twins were old enough to be left at home alone, that still didn't stop the worried feeling which was settling in his gut. He was just about to break down the door when a huffing Matthew unlocked it.

"Sorry, papa," said Matthew.

"What took so long?" asked Francis, taking a step into the house. "You had me worried, Matthew. Did you not hear me yelling?"

"I was in the middle of getting dressed," he informed his father, closing the door behind him.

Francis stood awkwardly in the hallway. He felt unwelcomed in his old home, despite Arthur not being present.

"Where is your brother?" he asked the teenager.

"In his room I think." Matthew started to head back up the stairs. "I'll go get him then."

Matthew knocked on his brother's door; he let himself in when nothing but silence came from his bedroom. Alfred was sitting on his bed, his nose deep into a comic book with a super-size packet chips by his side. Matthew said his name but Alfred acted as if he didn't exist. Slightly louder, and more irritated, Matthew called for his brother again. Matthew took a step into his brother's room and noticed a faint rhythm, emanating from Alfred. Black strings flowed outwards from his ears. Rolling his eyes, Matthew went to his brother's side and yanked out an earphone.

"What the hell, bro?" snapped Alfred.

Before Alfred could say anymore Matthew quickly spoke up. "Papa is here. Are you ready to go?"

Alfred adjusted his glasses and set down his comic book. He stared up at his twin with a bright glint of annoyance in his eyes.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I'm ready."

The twins closely walked together back down the stairs back to where Matthew left Francis. Watching his two boys pace down the stairs with such solemn emotions hanging from their faces made his heart shatter. He hated seeing them like this and hated himself even more knowing that he was one of the main reasons for their sorrow. Trying to counter their emotions, Francis pulled a huge grin on his face and zoomed to his children.

"Why such the long faces?" he said happily, as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Don't be so glum! After all, Papa Francis is taking you out for lunch." He gave them both a cheeky wink. "Plus, the two of you get a sneaky little day from school."

For the sake of their father the two boys put on a polite happy smile. With their father's poor excuse for a happy smile, the reality of their parents divorce finally began to set in. Francis let go of their shoulders and started to walk out of the house, with the boys treading along behind them.

"So how is your new apartment coming along?" Matthew asked awkwardly as they headed for the car.

"It's great! I almost forgot how fun living alone could be," he said, sliding into the driver's seat and buckling into his seatbelt. "It means that I can basically strut around naked and have no one scold me."

"Papa!" yelled bother of the boys, strapping into their own seatbelts in the back seat.

Francis used the rear-view mirror to look at the boys and laugh. "Oh, you boys hurt your dear papa. I thought I had taught you not to be prude." He winked at them through the mirror. "You two act just like-"

He cut himself off, knowing that any mention of Arthur would only hurt the hurt the boy's, already delicate, feelings.

"You can mention him you know?" said Alfred through the awkwardness. "Don't just act as if he doesn't exist."

"Alfred," sighed Francis heavily, as he turned the key into the ignition. "I know this hard on you two." He drove out and into the street. "But, for a while it'll be awkward for both your father and I to even talk even about each other. Prepare yourself for that."

Matthew looked worryingly at his brother who was staring longingly out of the window.

"Even before you two got divorced you were always awkward," mumbled Alfred.

Francis griped the steering wheel tightly. Matthew seen the anger grow inside his father and feared an augments erupting between them. However, no argument came. Instead Francis just let Alfred's snide comment pass over him. He knew he was angry but felt that scolding the boy would accomplish nothing but more resentment to fester within Alfred.

* * *

Arthur pulled up the police tape allowing him access to the narrow ally way. He thought about how unusually cheery the weather was considering the crime scene he was about to inspect.

It was a young girl. Arthur recognized the school uniform as it had the same logo of the school both his sons went to.

"What kind of sonofabitch would do this?" he muttered, keeling down beside the girl.

There was several gash wounds all over her body. The main one which made Arthur's stomach turn was the thick pus-filled wound across her neck. Defence bruises were up and down her arm, there was also one yellow bruise on her cheek. He took a mental note of each mark which decorated her small, slender, milky body.

"It is horrific," said his partner, who stood behind him.

He looked behind him at the shoulder-length brown haired man. He took out his note pad and began to write things down in it. Arthur looked around the crime scene. After having his job for almost five years his eyes were sharp enough to spot any clues in almost any crime scene.

"It looks like she was just dumped here." He pulled out a glove from his pocket and pulled it onto his right hand. He noticed small traces of blood seeping from her eyes and he went to open them. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Her eyes have been gorged out, Toris."

"Really?" said Toris, surprised. "What a strange thing to do."

A man dressed in a police uniform went up to the two. "Have you got all the information you need?" he asked, clearly sounding irritated.

Arthur snapped back to his feet. "Yes," he bit back. "Could you make sure the post-mortem report is sent to me as soon as possible?"

"Of course," the officer said, taking a small glance at the young highschooler. "Sick bastards."

He turned away and went back through the police tape. Arthur watched the officer leave and gave Toris a gesture to follow him back out the allyway. The two men left the girl to be slumped ungraciously into a body bag. After all the years in his job, Arthur never got used to seeing young people in body bags.

Every time he had to watch someone's son or daughter dead somewhere his mind immediately raced to his own children. At times he would wake up in a cold sweat previously dreaming about Alfred or Matthew being stone cold dead in one of those black zip bags. The dreams still haunted him but now he could no longer share his nightmares with his partner. Instead every time he woke up an empty bed would greet him.

**_A/N:_**

**_Firstly, I would like to point out that I am rather new to the hetalia fandom. I have done my very best to try and keep each and every character as canon as possible. Secondly, while I do write original content this is the first time I have written a fanfiction since I was around 13 (I'm currently 18) so I've had to dust off some cobwebs for this. Thirdly, while this is rated M for mature do not expect a lot of smut. However, do expect graphic scenes such as the one above. Lastly, the FACE family is completely under-rated!_**

**_From the bottom of my heart I thank you for reading._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Paper Work**

With an awkward silence resting in the car, they drove to a petite Italian café just outside of the city. Since it was early afternoon the café was quite busy with the lunch time rush.

Francis ushered the twins into the Italian establishment. A gentle bell chimed through the café as the door opened. The owner of said café stood behind the counter pouring a burly blond man coffee. With a bright and cheery grin on his face, he looked towards the three.

Francis let a warm smile spread on his face. "Bonjour, Feliciano!"

The boys walked a head of their father and took up the only booth left at the back of the café. Francis, on the other hand went up to the counter to talk to the owner.

"Francis, ciao!" he exclaimed, setting down the steaming jug of coffee. "Feel like forever since I've seen you." He said, rubbing his hands on his apron.

"Well I've been a little…busy," he said, taking up the only stood next to the muscular blond. Francis gave a nod to the man who in turn also made a polite gesture.

"My brother informed me about what happened between you and Arthur, Francis. My deepest apologies," the blond man gave Francis a look of sympathy.

"Ludwig!" said Feliciano, in a panic. "I thought we agreed not to mention anything about you-know-who? I'm sorry Francis…I…I…" Franticly, Feliciano looked from Francis to Ludwig, a nervous but hyper active sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"It's quiet alright Feliciano," Francis said, waving his hand. "I'm actually glad someone isn't walking on eggshells. Merci, Ludwig."

"Bitte," Ludwig returned to nursing his coffee.

"Menus, s'il vous plaît?"

"Oh, si." Feliciano bent down into a compartment behind the counter and pulled out three menus. "Here you go. I'll have Alice take your order shortly."

Francis took the menus from the young Italian man and gave him a small nod. When he returned to the booth Matthew was heavily giggling at Alfred who had two breadsticks shoved into the top of his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked, sliding in beside Matthew.

"I'mma walrus," he said, his voice muffled by the breadsticks.

"Take those out." Francis badly held back a chuckle as he handed out the menus.

Alfred barely glanced at the exquisite Italian cuisine listed on the menu before blurting out, "Peperoni pizza."

Francis looked at Alfred, his mouth slightly open in confusion. "Did you even look at the menu?"

"If I already know what I want then what is the point?" he spoke back.

Francis rolled his eyes at the teen. "You do realise that all of these as such fine dishes – even if most of them are drowned in tomato sauce." He said the last part in a low mutter before lowering his eyes back to scan the menu. "Do you know what you want, Matthew?"

"Eh? Hmm." Matthew had his face buried within the menu. "I guess I'll just have the same as Alfred," he eventually mumbled.

Francis sighed and took the boys menus from them. "Okay, then we'll just share one large pizza. How does that sound, _**sons**_?" He looked at the two boys who nodded.

Francis looked back towards the counter. Feliciano cheerfully laughed at something Ludwig had said just before straightening his tie. After taking one last gulp of his remaining coffee, Ludwig bent down to pick up his dark briefcase. He strolled out of the café; the bell rang throughout the place at his departure.

"Are you ready to order?"

Francis blinked up towards the waitress who had seemingly manifested from thin air. She was smiling down at the three with a note pad and pen at the ready. Alfred took a quick glance at the mini-skirt she wore before quickly turning away, embarrassed from doing so. The girl looked a lot like her twin Feliciano. The only real difference between the two was that she seemed like the manlier out of the two.

Francis leaned his elbow onto the table and gave her a sly half smile. "Why of course, _**miss**_."

She took the three laminated menus from the table and placed them under her arm. Francis gave her their order and she took one quick note of it. "I'll be right over with your order!"

She turned away and headed towards her brother a blissful spring in her step.

* * *

Arthur took a break for all the paper work which piled up on his desk. The sun's rays mercilessly shone on his back. The air was thick and humid, Arthur rolled up his shirt sleeves trying cool himself down. The inside of the building was even worse, which is one of the main reasons he needed to get out into the fresh air. He looked up towards the sky at let the sun brighten down on his face. He wanted to feel something good for once. Both his home and work life were filled with misery and to feel the warmth on his face for a few seconds was just the kind of pickup he needed.

"Arthur," said a voice from behind him.

Regretfully, Arthur was crashed back into his miserable reality when Toris' voice drifted over to him. He whipped back to face a rather worried looking Toris.

"Yes, what is it?" Arthur couldn't help but hide the clear irritation lurking in his voice.

"There's a man in who's just come into the office," said Toris, rubbing the sweat from his brow. "He seems rather…upset."

A sigh automatically fell from Arthur's mouth. He followed his partner back into the officer, his feet dragging across the floor as he did. The first thing Arthur noticed about the man was that he strangely wore a blue and white scarf across his neck. Arthur found the man's attire rather ridiculous considering the scorching weather outside. Clearly, 'upset' was an understatement of the man's feelings; he was almost fuming with rage.

"Get me someone who will listen, and take me seriously!" he yelled at the receptionist.

"Sir, please," muttered the receptionist nervously. "I'm afraid-"

"It's okay Cheryl," Arthur said, stepping towards the receptionist's desk. "I'll take over."

The receptionist nodding towards Arthur, clearly thankful that Arthur had taken away the cause of her stress. Arthur motioned for Toris to stay with the receptionist. He took the man away from the rather noisy main room and into his own personal office. The window was wide open and a slow rotating ceiling fan spun above their heads. Arthur gestured to the seat in front of the desk.

"Now, this detective agency really doesn't appreciate it when wankers such as yourself come into our office and start to harass reception." He took a seat at the corner of the desk and leaned towards the man.

The man was clearly more than a little pissed off but he tried his best at keeping a cool and clam demeanour. His arms were folded across his rather wide chest. Arthur's sharp eyes spotted worry behind his golden eyes. Arthur got up and skimmed through a file cabinet. He broke out a blank file and took it to the desk.

"Name?" he sat down across from the man and picked up a pen.

"Lars Van Dyk," he said, unfolding his arms and instead clasping his hands on his lap.

"Do you live in the area?" Arthur asked, starting to write in the blank form.

Lars nodded, feeling slightly more relieved than when he first walked in. Arthur scribbled down some other useless information which believed was purely created just to add more minutes doing paper work. He preferred to actually do detective work rather than sit at a desk and write down trivial things such as the exact time of doing said paper work.

"So what brings you to our office today?" He set down the pen.

"It's my sister, Emma. She's been gone since yesterday," he said, a worried line wrinkled his forehead.

"Are you sure she's not just staying with a friend?" he asked, raising his ridiculously busy eyebrow.

"You sound just like that police officer I spoke to," his voice was dripping with resentment. "Look, I came to this agency because I thought you could take me seriously."

"And I am, however if she is just missing for a day then she may come back. In fact she may be home right now and you've missed her," Arthur didn't have time to deal with crazy family members.

"Look," Lars snapped harshly. "I know my sister. We've just moved to this city. She doesn't have any friends here and I'm the only family she has."

Arthur looked at the worried Lars. He stared at him for a long time, judging wither or not taking on this case would be worth wild – it would certainly give him something better to do. He took up his pen and prepared himself to fill in the rest of the form.

"Give me her details and the events leading up to her disappearance."

* * *

If there was one thing certain about Alfred, it was the fact that the amount of junk food he could consume was unhuman. Matthew remember one time where Arthur had joked about who they adopted Alfred from, saying that it really was alien stomachs from another galaxy – around that same time Alfred started to wet the bed again.

"So did you enjoy lunch?" asked Francis when they were back in the car.

"I sure did!" said Alfred, putting a hand to his full belly. "Hey, Matthew you don't look so good." He slapped his hand to his hunched over brother. "Looks like you can't handle a good pizza!"

He loudly laughed at his brother's sickly green tinge.

"I can handle any pizza you can!" Matthew tried hard to yell, but it didn't go over his usual hushed tone.

"Whatever you say, bro," Alfred let out a loud laugh, to which Matthew started to hit him on the shoulder repeatedly.

Francis let his smile slip onto his face as he watched the two boys from the mirror. Just watching them gradually start to act like their old selves again made a strong sense of joy fill his stomach. Or perhaps it was the pizza coming back to haunt him. It was then he realised how much he missed spending time with the two of them. Due to the stress of his divorce, moving into a new apartment and his own job, spending any sort of time with the boys was limited. However, his happy and upbeat feeling soon dissolved when he remembered exactly where he was drive to.

It had been a while since Francis and Arthur were even in the same room. While the two tried to keep away there angry feelings in front of the twins but that still didn't stop the sense of dread inside Francis' stomach.

They pulled into the small parking lot across from the detective agency where Arthur worked. When the two first got together, Francis used to tease him about his little crime novels and how Arthur could never be as great as them. However, Arthur was ambitious and soon rose up in the five years he had been with the agency. Francis remembered how proud he was of him. A sad smile rose on his face which he quickly shook away.

The twins walked ahead of him and into the building. Arthur was out at the front desk shaking his hands with a tall scraped man.

"Don't worry," muttered Arthur. "I'll be in touch shortly."

The man left taking a quick glance at the two boys. The twins couldn't help but feel intimidated as his large shadow casted over them.

"Boys!" exclaimed Arthur, his arms open wide.

The twins ran to their father, enthusiast about getting away from the tall daunting man.

"I didn't expect the two of you here so soon," he said. Matthew noticed that his father's mood had significantly increased since earlier that morning. His happy smiley face soon dropped when Francis came into Arthur's eye sight.

"Am I too early?" Francis asked, awkwardly standing with one hand on his hip.

Arthur checked his watch. It was just after one o'clock and Arthur had hoped to get out the office for a while. He got quite a lot of information thanks to Lars about the missing girl. He wanted to do some actual work instead of the mountaining paper work on his desk.

"Actually, could you take the boys for a little longer?" asked Arthur.

"Oh," Francis folded his arms and stared Arthur down. "What if I have plans?"

"Do you?" asked Arthur.

"Well, no but-" Francis stuttered.

Matthew stood in between the two sensing an argument bubbling between the two adults. "Can you guys-"

Alfred grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him back to his side. He shook his head at his brother giving him a look which said 'its pointless'.

"Well if you don't have any plans can you just take them for an hour or so?" asked Alfred, harshly.

"You sound as if your work is more important," Francis scoffed. "Typical."

"This is important," snapped Arthur.

Toris noticed the two men talking rather loudly and went to stand by his partner's children. In the years he had been friends with Arthur, he had seen how bad the arguments between the exes could be and didn't want the teenagers to see them.

"Hey." He fished into his pocket and brought out some change. "Why don't you guys go get something out of the vending machine?" said the smiling Lithuanian.

Alfred took the change. "Sure thing." He tugged at his brother's sleeve. "C'mon Matthew."

Matthew was conflicted; he wanted to stay and try to stop his parents bickering but at the same time he knew that stopping them would be almost an impossibility. He allowed Alfred to lead him away from the men and towards the machines at the far side of the room.

"You always make any excuse you can get," Francis gritted his teeth. "It's getting old, Arthur. Aren't your own children important?"

"Don't you even dare say such a thing!" bellowed Arthur, taking a step forward towards his former husband. "You know how much I love those boys."

Francis scoffed a laugh. "You have a strange way of showing it."

"What about you? Don't you want to spend time with them?" Arthur retaliated. "These past few weeks you've barely given them so much as a second glance."

"I'm sorry. I've been a little busy with things such as moving out of my own home!"

"A home you helped break!"

"Because of you!"

Toris could feel the two reaching boiling point and felt that he had to step in. "Now, don't you two thing you're being a bit harsh."

The two men looked towards the nervous Toris, rage burning in both their eyes. Toris could feel their rage being aimed at him and a sweat started to break out on his skin.

"Don't even try to get involved you twit!" barked Arthur.

"This isn't any of your business!" Francis yelled.

The two turned their anger on full blast and started to yell at the poor meek Toris. At first Toris tried to explain he merely wanted to help but his cries were overshadowed by the yelling men. The yelled at him, cursed at him and accidently spat at him with their harsh words. Eventually their rage dwindled and Francis turned back to Arthur, a tired look in his eyes.

"Fine! The boys will stay at mine tonight; pick them up first thing in the morning." He turned away dramatically. "Alfred, Matthew!"

The two boys held cans of soda in their slightly shaking hands. Quickly, they scurried to Arthur and gave him a joint hug before jogging slightly to Francis as he left the office.

There was a silence throughout the office. Arthur could feel the eyes of his colleague's burn into his back. He turned around, his menacing eyebrows knitted together. He turned his body and looked at them all. "What are you all staring at? Don't you have work to do?" With his good mood completely gone he marched back into his officer and prepared to leave.

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Smashed Vases**

"Do you really feel up to investigating right now?" asked Toris, as they drove from the parking lot. "I mean that was pretty tense back there." A sense of glum filled Toris as he remembered the two turning on him.

"I do apologise for that, Toris," Arthur mumbled. "Even when we were together we always just seemed to bicker and fight and…"

Arthur trailed off when he spotted a small photograph stuck to the dash board. He recognised the short blonde haired woman as Toris' wife. He had only met her a few times. Arthur remembered her as being very caring, almost like a big sister. Rackling his brain, Arthur searched for the woman's name before talking once again.

"I'm sorry. I must seem so ungrateful," he mumbled. "I doubt you and Felicja argued much. I remember that one time you brought me and Francis over for dinner. The way she looked at you was just amazing."

Toris stopped at a red light and glanced over to his partner, a curious look in his eyes.

"I remember thinking about how badly I wanted Francis to look at me like that," Arthur commented. "It was as if only her eyes belonged to you. Like…if she glanced away from you for a second that she'd lose you and she seemed unwilling to take that chance."

Toris felt a blush rise to his face and a small lump form in his throat. He swallowed the bitterly sorrowful tasting lump and spoke up just before the light hit amber.

"We argued once…just before she…" he stopped and moved along with the traffic. "It was over something so silly that I can't even remember it. She ran off and the next thing I know the phone rings."

Sympathetically, Arthur put his hand on his friends shoulder, seeing how hard relaying this story was for him. "I know, Toris. It's hardly even been a year so this must still feel fresh in your mind."

Toris let out a steady sigh. "Next month will be the anniversary. Would you mind coming with me to her grave? I'd just prefer some company."

Arthur nodded with a small smile. "I shall," he said.

Toris quickly changed topics as back to the investigation. "So her brother says she went to get some groceries and just…never came back?"

"Pretty much," Arthur muttered. "He said the trip shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes but it's been almost a day and still no word of her."

"What time did she leave?" asked Toris.

"Late afternoon," he said. "Pull up here; we'll walk the rest of the way."

Toris parked his car below a large block of city apartments. The two of them got out of the car and began discussing what Lars had told Arthur. According to Lars his sister was rather bold and did have a habit of exploring stores. However, one that day they had run out of waffles and the girl was desperate for some. The small stroll to the store shouldn't have taken long at all. After an hour Lars became very worried and started to look for her. He himself didn't know his way around so couldn't find the store she had gone to. Desperation sank into Lars and he began wandering the street asking everyone if they had seen his sister. Lars had given a photo of the girl to Arthur. She was pretty, beautiful even. Her hair was a dark dusty blonde and she wore a green band in her hair.

The two detectives had gone into around seven stores until they made a breakthrough. On the eighth store the man by the counter recalled seeing the woman, however he stated that she didn't buy anything.

"She asked for proper Belgium waffles, said the ones we offered weren't up to 'her standards'." He made air-quotes with his fingers. "So she just left."

Arthur crossed his arms. "Do you have security footage that we could look at?"

The man nodded at took them to a back room filled with security videos. He left them alone with the footage and went back to tend to his store. The two partners rifled through the last days video. Eventually they found the girl. It was just as the cashier had said; she went in, talked to the cashier and left. Once the video ended Arthur threw back his head and let out a deep groan in annoyance.

"We've been here for half an hour and this was all we got!" he snapped. "For bloody hells sake. What about you Toris?" he asked his companion, who was looking through the outside footage on another computer. "Please tell me you have something?"

"All I can tell you is that she went to the left. Other than that I'm sorry, Arthur," he tried to give his partner a half smile.

"At least it's better than nothing," he grumbled, standing up and pulling his blazer back on. "Let's go, no use staying here any longer."

* * *

Alfred was scared that his father's head was about to explode. He was bright red with sheer fury. Matthew tried to calm him down when they were in the car but Francis just snapped at him. Matthew slunk back in the seat, clearly rather upset at being yelled at.

Matthew was never yelled at, thought Alfred. Out of the twins, Matthew was the good one, the golden child. While Alfred was the loud, annoying, trouble-maker. However, recent events had made Alfred tone down his rather childish attitude.

Francis kept muttering to himself. He hated that stupid British moron. He wished that he could somehow travel back in time so he could stop himself from going into that bar. His mind travelled back and wondered how differently his life would have been without Arthur. For starters, without the stress Arthur put him through, significantly less greying hairs would have sprouted from his head. Francis thought that if he didn't get together with Arthur that at that very moment he would have been out having fun. He imagined himself at some fancy restaurant instead of driving his two boys-

That's when he stopped. It was Arthur's idea to adopt the boys, without him he wouldn't have had two amazing children. As he drove along the busy streets Francis remember when Alfred was brought home. It had been a long and gruelling process – which they were still going through with Matthew, who was stuck in Canada – but in the whole thing, was worth it. Six months later they got Matthew and the four became a quaint little family for seventeen years.

Francis had been married to Arthur for almost twenty years. He found it baffling that twenty years of his life was just wasted away with the signing of a form.

Francis finally pulled back into his apartment building parking lot. He pulled up into his usual spot and turned off the engine. Before he undid the locks on the doors he turned back to face his two boys.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you Matthew," he sighed. "I was just angry and needed to take it out on someone."

Matthew kept his head down and nodded slightly. "Its fine, papa."

"I doubt me and your father will be on good terms for a while," he said. "So I suggest you try and get used to the fact that we won't be talking to each other very much."

Alfred looked out the window. He was in two minds about what to say, eventually he blurted it out. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for that woman."

Francis' face dropped. Alfred was right; the whole divorce was his fault. If he hadn't slept with the first girl he spotted at that bar then his family would still be together.

Alfred had expected his father to yell at him for even mentioning that, but he never did. Instead Francis opened the car doors and the three of them walked in silence up towards Francis' apartment. The building was relatively new, light chocolate walls with a white outline stretched along the interior. It looked more like a fancy hotel rather than an apartment building.

Francis clicked his key into the door of his apartment and started to open it. A sudden force caused the door to slam shut again.

"Don't come in!" yelled the cause of the force. "The house is not up to my awesome standard!"

"Gilbert?" Francis took a second to process the information suddenly thrusted to him. "Wait…you're still not done! Sacré bleu! I gave you two all morning!" He struggled to open the door. "Let me in you idoits!"

"Not with that attitude," said Gilbert, slightly giggling on the other side of the door.

Francis jerked his head towards the twins, gesturing them to help him with the door. Alfred crouched down and pushed the bottom half of the door while Matthew focused on the top half. They pushed against Gilberts force and were able to force enough room for Francis to push half his body in the door.

"For goodness sake, mon ami!" he yelled, clearly in pain from the door. "Let me into my own home!"

"But we're not done!" said another Spanish voice, as another pair of hands began to press against the door.

"This is crazy, dude," said Alfred, using his shoulder to keep the door from snapping his father in half. "Ugh."

"If one of my neighbours sees us they're going to freak out!" Francis was able to wiggle a little more of his body through the door. "Now for the last time. Laissez-moi entrer!"

Like a cork from a champagne bottle, Francis popped himself through the door and into his own home. Francis managed to remain steady on his feet and merely shuffled awkwardly through the door. Matthew fell through the air but was caught by Gilbert. Alfred wasn't so lucky, since he was doing most of the heavy work he crashed onto his back with a loud thud. The thud made the flooring vibrate slightly, causing Francis to turn around and check the boy over.

"Sacré bleu! Alfred, are you alright?" he asked, helping the boy to his feet.

"Yeah, bro," he said, rubbing his spine. "Nothing major!"

"You two dumbasses!" he marched over to his two friends, who were awkwardly standing a few paces from the door. With a swift movement from his arms, Francis smacked both of their ears hard. The slap triggered them to jerk sideways and knock their heads together.

"Ay!" winched Antonio, clutching his left ear. "Eso duele, mi amigo. We was only making sure this place was perfect before your arrival. Was hitting us necessary?"

"Was locking me out of my own home necessary?" barked Francis.

"Well maybe not…" Antonio looked away, a small grin on his face.

Francis rubbed his forehead and let out the biggest puff of air stored in his lungs. "I'm surrounded by idiots!"

"Aw, don't be like that Francis!" A long and muscular arm went around Francis' neck. He almost chocked due to Gilberts strength. "At least we got most of the work done!"

Francis stopped and was finally able to take a look at his decorated apartment. The place seemed completely transformed from that morning. So many things had been added to the rather large house. The furniture was laid out neatly, curtains were elegantly hung down from the wall and there were all sorts of little ornaments arranged throughout the room. Francis' knew either Gilbert or Antonio had purchased them; since he never even thought about having such thing in his home. A sudden wave of realisation hit Francis as he looked around the living room. He put angled his head downward so as not to be seen.

"Excuse me, I'll be back momentarily." He pushed past his friends and headed straight for the bathroom.

Despite the fact that his apartment had suddenly been filled with expensive furniture and decorations, something was still missing. He hated to admit it, but he couldn't help but miss Arthur.

Around the time the boys were just going into school, Arthur had – for some reason – decided to take up pottery. Each time he tried to make a vase it ended up looking like a disfigured beast, who desperately begged for the sweet release of death. Francis recalled how Arthur once stayed up all night trying to perfect a single vase. After a ridicules amount of clay, Arthur finally was able to produce a petite vase. After he was finally able to make one he began making more and more and more. Most of them Francis threw away, expect for four.

Francis turned on the tap and sprayed himself with water. The cooling water reminded him of that same rainy summer's day. The boys were starting to grow restless at having to stay inside for the duration of the day and Arthur had no idea how to entertain them. It was Francis who came up with the idea of actually painting the vases. They spent all day just painting those vases. Arthur actually mocked the idea as being stupid but soon got into the spirit of things.

He seemed to miss those vases the most. However, they were long gone now. Arthur had smashed them all up in a fit of rage just before their divorce. Francis recoiled when he remembered trying to stop Arthur. He ended up hitting him. His knuckles clenched at the memory of colliding with Arthurs face.

Francis hated himself. He hated his apartment. He hated the elaborate decorations. He hated everything.

Eventually Francis emerged from the bathroom to see the twins helping their father's best friends to do the finishing touches. The light in the living room still had no shade on it. So instead of using step ladders, Alfred decided to sit on Matthew's shoulder while he hoisted him skywards.

"Can you hurry up, please?" asked Matthew, clearly struggling to keep Alfred upright.

"Just a little bit longer, dude," Alfred said, trying to click the purple shade into place.

"You really need to lay off the burgers," muttered Matthew.

The shade popped into place with the light just as Matthew's insult processed through Alfred's head. "Hey!"

Too quickly, he jerked back. The sudden swift movement made Matthew's feet slide from under him. Gilbert was right behind them and tried to save the two boys but ended up being crushed underneath them instead.

Francis watched the comical incident. He couldn't help but laugh at how insane they looked laying on the floor.

It didn't matter if Francis hated himself, because his boys didn't. Seeing them act like fools reminded him of that. While he had lost Arthur, he still had the twins.

* * *

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.**_

_**A/N: **_

_**Just to clear up any confusion, **__**Felicja is a fan name – I think – of fem!Poland. I will be using some of the fems, I've already used fem!Italy – who has the fan name Alice. I'll add a note whenever I use one just to clarify. **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Good Night and Sweet Dreams**

The sky started to turn a deep shade of blue when Arthur finally returned home. Home was actually the last place he wanted to be. The only reason he went there was because Toris had finally forced him to leave the office. It was eerily empty. His house was normally so noisy that no one could hear their own thoughts. Arthur found the silence unbearable.

It had been over twenty years since he had been alone. The feeling was strange, it was as if he had so much to do but didn't know where on when to start. He took about three paces into his house before finally settling on something. He walked back outside his house and got into his car. He drove to the nearest bar to him. The bar he came across was small but seemed friendly enough.

If there was one thing he missed about living in England it was definitely the pubs. The taverns where he lived seemed to be trying too hard to impress everyone – and he was never able to find a decent tasting pint anywhere.

He walked into the bar. One or two heads turned when he strolled over to the counter. Arthur decided to start drinking something light so ordered just a simple beer. The bartender, with almost zero enthusiasm, handed over the chilled glass bottle to the Englishman.

"Cheers," Arthur muttered.

He tipped the bottle into his mouth and started to gulp down its contents. As he set the bottle back down; a young man sitting four stools down from him caught his eye. He recognized him – but from where? The man had rather dark brown hair with a single curl poking out from the side. He sat with his head in his chin, clearly looking bored. He took another swig of his beer as he tried to put a name to the man's – rather grumpy looking – face.

Arthur went back to his beer and watched out of the corner of his eye as another man joined the dark haired grumpy person. He recognised the other young man quickly. He drew his attention away from the two and bent his head down – hoping they wouldn't notice him. _Bollocks, Feliciano! _He thought, going back to her beer.

Arthur thought about how he could sneak past the two without being noticed, when a hand patted his shoulder. He froze up at the happy high pitched voice behind him. "Arthur! I thought that was you!"

Arthur used all his every ounce of his will trying not to yell out curse words. He turned around, a fake smile on his face.

"Oh, Feliciano, it's nice t-to see you," he stuttered, clutching his beer.

Arthur had hoped Feliciano wouldn't come up to him. He knew that years ago when he first met Feliciano that he scared him. Back then he had a very strong intimidating air about him which frightened the young Italian. Of course as the years went by he became less and less fearful of him but still kept his distance. Feliciano was just being polite.

Even though he was closer to Francis, that still didn't excuse what he did. Feliciano knew how much Arthur was hurting.

"I never would have expected you here," Feliciano said, with a bright smile. "Why don't you come join us?"

Arthur looked behind Feliciano towards his brother. The name Lovino rang loudly in his head when he saw him. Lovino looked annoyed, clearly he didn't want Arthur to join and Arthur couldn't blame him. He knew he wasn't exactly 'fun company'.

"I'm okay-" Arthur started.

Feliciano grabbed his arm and began to pull him out of his stool. "Don't be silly, you're joining us!"

Arthur suddenly missed the days when Feliciano would piss scared himself at the sight of him. The young man gestured him to the stool beside him. There were a few seconds of painful silence before Feliciano finally spoke up.

He rolled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. "I invited Ludwig and Kiku too. Said they might come after some big corporate meeting. Whenever they talk business it goes right over my head." Feliciano moved his hand zooming above his head.

At the mention of Kiku Arthur relaxed slightly. Back when Arthur first moved to this town when he was just a rebel young lad looking to make it big quick, he didn't have many friends. When he was wallowing in self-pity one night drunk as a skunk, a young Japanese man made sure he made it home safely. He was grateful for that man; goodness knows what could have happened since most of that night was a heavy blur to him.

Arthur swirled his beer around in its glass prison. Feliciano turned to his brother and began idly chatting away to him. His brother just replied back in grunts and foul languaged insults. Arthur looked up from his drink and towards the brothers. Something seemed missing to him.

"Say, why isn't your sister here too?" he asked.

"Oh, Alice?" said Feliciano. "She uh…what was it she said?" he turned to his older brother.

"Her exact words I believe were 'There's no way in hell I am going to that bar. No leave me alone to sleep you idiot. And take that other idiot with you too.'" Lovino sighed. "So basically," he leaned back to look at Arthur. "I'm this bastard's babysitter for the night."

Arthur scoffed back a laugh and went back to nursing his beer.

"I don't understand why she has to be so rough," said Feliciano. "Hard to believe we're twins at times." He laughed, just as a small bell echoed through the bar.

The three turned to look at the door. A tall muscular man, accompanied by a smaller slimmer black haired man, entered the bar. Feliciano called out towards the two and they drew there attention to the counter. When their gaze reached Arthur he immediately turned his back, a hot flush rising on his face.

"I didn't expect to see you here Arthur," said Kiku, sitting on the stool next to him. "You seem well."

"I happened to bump into Feliciano here and he made me sit with him," Arthur said, in a rather grumpy manner.

Kiku let out a small giggle as the bartender went up to him. Ludwig stood in between Arthur and Feliciano, trying to get the bartenders attention also.

"Why didn't you get a table, Feliciano?" he muttered, irritated.

"It is becoming rather cramped here, isn't it?" Feliciano held onto his drink as he jumped off the stool. "There's a table at the back. We'll go get it."

He hooked his arm around his elder brother's and pulled him off of his stool. Lovino started cursing as he almost spilled his drink. Feliciano took no notice and just continued to drag Lovino towards the back of the bar where the empty table lay.

The bartender took Ludwig's order after giving Kiku his. "Aren't you coming, Arthur?" he asked the British man.

"Uh." A bashful reddish tint light up on Arthur's face. "Y-yes," he mumbled, looking down at his watch. "Just let me go outside and for a second. Could you take this for me?"

He handed Kiku his beer and replied with a humble, "certainly."

Arthur walked outside the bar and out into the warm night. Letting out a sigh he, fished into his blazer pocket. He pulled out an unopened packet of cigarettes, freshly bought that morning. He hadn't touched them in over seven years. It was Alfred that got him to quit after much begging and pleading. However, recent circumstances made him go running to the toxic stick. Like an animal, he opened the packet and pulled one out. He lit it up and took in a long breath of the nicotine. He couched a little as blew out the smoke.

He giggled at the image of Alfred scolding him about smoking. Leaning back on a wall he continued to smoke the cigarette all the way down to the bud, before casually flicking it away. He urged for another one, his sudden crave for nicotine was unlike any hunger he had ever felt. So he allowed himself to smoke just one more. Half way through the door of the bar opened and out stepped Ludwig.

Arthur didn't really know Ludwig and was only introduced to him through Kiku. While he felt a small sense of dislike between himself and Ludwig the two were civil enough.

"Didn't know you smoked," he said, pulling out his own packet of cigarettes.

"I quit years ago," he mumbled, flicking extra ash away from the ember. "Seven year streak out the window."

"I don't blame you." Ludwig clicked on his lighter. "I saw Francis in the café today."

The sudden mention of that name made Arthur's hair stand on end. "Flirting with the waitress I guess?" he scoffed.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for you two," Ludwig said, exhaling smoke. "How long were you two married for anyway?"

"Since I was nineteen," he muttered, letting out a chuckle.

"Nineteen? A bit young isn't it?" said Ludwig, with one raised eyebrow.

"I was a stupid little teenage 'musician'," he made air-quotes with his fingers, "Francis came along and quickly after we got together we just decided to get married – I believe we were both rather drunk."

"That fast? Feliciano told me you hated each other at first?" Ludwig questioned.

"We did," Arthur muttered. "Said my guitar playing was just pure noise and that the sound of screeching cats was more enjoyable to listen to." He sniggered. "Fucking twat."

"Your relationship is confusing to me," Ludwig was half way through his cigarette.

"Same here," Arthur muttered.

Ludwig took a final inhale of his cigarette before flicking it away. Arthur still stood with a few more puffs left.

"I'll see you back in there." Ludwig raised his hand as he retuned back into the bar.

Reminiscing of his strange marriage made him think of the twins. How long had it been since he had gone a night without them? He missed them dearly. Pulling out his phone, Arthur dialled Alfred's number and placed the sleek black brick towards his ear. A small lump clogging up his throat.

Since Francis only had two bedrooms in his apartment, Alfred and Matthew were forced to share a double bed – at least their room had a television in it.

Matthew was in the living room with Francis while Alfred sat in his shared bedroom, flicking through the moving channels, when his father called. He didn't take his eyes away from the TV and merely clicked 'answer' when his phone rang.

"Yo," he said, turning on an action movie.

"Alfred," said his dad on the other line.

"Oh, hey dad," Alfred turned down the volume of the TV. "What's all that noise in the background?"

Through the small device Alfred could hear loud chatter and faint music.

"It's nothing I just wanted to say goodnight to you and Matthew. Can you put him on the phone?" asked Arthur on the other line, his voice sounding weird.

Alfred agreed without much questioning and went out into the living room. Matthew was sitting beside Francis on the couch. The two were watching one of Francis' old movies. Alfred never saw the appeal in those movies, nothing excited every happened and all the characters seemed to do was talk.

Alfred held the phone towards Matthew.

"Who is it?" Matthew asked, moving his hand towards the phone.

Alfred looked towards Francis, who hadn't looked away from the TV, "its dad," Alfred said, putting the phone in his twin's hand.

Matthew pressed the phone to his cheek and stood up from the couch. Alfred followed his brother back into their bedroom.

"Dad?" Matthew said into the phone.

"Hey, Matthew. Just called to say goodnight." Arthur took in a deep breath. "I miss you two."

Matthew swallowed. "We miss you too, dad," he said softly.

"Are you having a good time at your fathers?"

"We're just watching movies, Alfred has been in the room mostly," Matthew said, while Alfred stuck his tongue out at him.

"Good…good…that's," a small sigh came from the phone. "That's good son. Put your brother back on the phone. Oh, g-goodnight, Matthew."

"Night, dad," Matthew said back to his father before handing Alfred his mobile.

Matthew exited the room and went back to sit with Francis. The credits were rolling and he made a groaning sound knowing he missed the ending. Francis picked up the remote.

"Do you want me to rewind it?" he asked, wiggling the remote in his hand.

"No its fine. Did he get with Nino?" he asked, sitting down.

"Yes, it was a happy ending."

Francis put his hand on Matthew's sleek soft hair. As soon as the dirty golden locks tickled his palm Francis was washed over by a wave of nostalgia. It was as if he was a little toddler again, clutching his stuffed polar bear toy for safety.

Alfred poked his head out the room door. "Yo, I'm heading to bed. Hurry up Matt, that way you don't wake me up when your fat ass tries to crawl into bed."

Matthew stood up his face red with rage. "My fat ass! You're the one who eats nothing but big macs!"

The two went into their room throwing insults at each other. Francis smiled at his boys silliness before yelling at them, "bonne nuit et doux rêves!"

"Good night, papa!" the two boys yelled back in harmony.

_**A/N:**_

_**I was so close to calling this chapter 'Pun and Go' – since that is my favourite character song. The movie I referenced at the very end was a French film called Amelie – or Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain. Which is pretty good.**_

_**Thank you from the buttom of my heart for reading/reviewing.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Switched**

Arthur actually had more fun than he first thought by going to that bar. At first, he only went there so the alcohol could dull his memory and perhaps he could start to feel normal again. The two Italian brothers went over to a pool table leaving Arthur with Kiku and Ludwig. The chatted about random things, Ludwig's eyes went towards the two brothers.

"Has either one of you actually seen those two drunk?" he asked, lowering his voice slightly.

"Aren't they always drunk?" asked Arthur, sipping away at his third beer.

"I mean really drunk," Ludwig explained. "They actually have very high tolerances for alcohol – I guess it is because they are Italians. They've already drank double what we have yet they seem in unaffected – if not just a little tipsy."

"Come to think of it," Kiku sat back in his chair and looked towards the brothers. "I've not seen them drunk either."

"I'm curious now," said Ludwig, his elbows on the table. "I feel like we should make it our mission tonight to actually see these two completely drunk."

Arthur raised one eyebrow. "Won't that take a while – you said so yourself they have a high alcohol tolerance. If we try to keep up with them we could miss the whole thing."

"Then we'll just take our drinks slowly," said Kiku. "Perhaps you should limit yourself, Arthur. I know how you can be."

"I'm not that bad!" Arthur yelled, more loudly than he intended to which made Kiku and Ludwig chuckle.

Arthur pulled down at his tie, loosening it. He held his beer loosely in his hand while it balanced on his lap. He checked his phone wondering what the time ways. It was just after eleven. The brothers came back from playing their game. Lovino was in a sour mood after having lost to his younger brother.

"Aw, c'mon Lovino!" Feliciano said, hooking his arm around Lovino. "Its not my fault you can't put balls into sacks."

"I hate you so much!" he kicked his brother's leg under the table.

Feliciano jerked his leg upwards at the pain of his shin and ended up slamming his knee into the table. Arthur couldn't help but laugh along with Ludwig and Kiku. Still laughing Ludwig got out of his chair and gestured for Feliciano to follow him.

"Let's go get another round before you hurt yourself even more," he muttered.

Feliciano nodded, while whining about his leg.

The two left the table and Kiku turned towards Arthur. "So how are your boys? Sakura has been telling me that they haven't been to school in a while."

Arthur rolled the name Sakura in his head for a while before finally remember her. It was Kiku's teenage sister, who also happened to be Matthew and Alfred's classmate – not that they spoke about her much.

"Francis moving was just far too hard on them," he took a sip of his beer. "I'm actually surprised. Matthew took the quiet well but Alfred." Arthur sighed. "I never know what's going on in that boys head."

"Teenagers," said Kiku, trying to sound empathetic. "I guess."

Arthur laughed. "How is your little sister? How long has she lived with you now?"

Kiku looked to the side, trying to remember the answer to Arthur's question. "A year and a half now I believe. She really loves the western side of the world." Kiku gulped his own drink.

Ludwig came back to the table with another round of drinks. He turned back and everyone noticed Feliciano wasn't with him. A quick scan of the room and he was found talking with a group of young attractive girl. After one brief sigh, Ludwig called him back. Feliciano came skittering back at Ludwig's rather loud voice, saying quick, 'I'm sorry's.

The five men sat down and proceed to drink their alcohol without much disturbance. Arthur tried his best to keep up with them but decided to merely hold the beer in his hand and pretended to drink it. A light dizzy feeling was swirling in his head and he didn't want to get extremely drunk. His stomach turned when Feliciano suggested they do shots at the bar. Of course, Arthur politely declined as did Kiku. Feliciano dragged his brother along with Ludwig up towards the bar.

"Why am stuck with this idiot and the potato loving cock sucker," spat Lovino as he was dragged away.

Kiku put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hand. "I don't think I can make it, Arthur." He looked up, a slightly redden glow flushed on his cheeks. "Those three are strange creatures."

Arthur tried to shake the dizziness from his head. "I know what you mean, it's a good thing I don't have work tomorrow." He chuckled.

At the bar a crowd had gathered of other men and women who decided to join in on taking shots. Arthur and Kiku watched as people yelled excitedly. Kiku and Arthur stopped drinking their own alcohol trying to stay as sober as possible. After almost half an hour of shot taking a sudden smash caused them to stop. Arthur and Kiku looked back to see Lovino holding back Feliciano who was yelling curse words at an innocent by stander. Ludwig ushered back the Italian brothers to the table, a worried look on his face.

The two sat down with weird looks on their faces. Lovino seemed to have a bright grin stretched across his cheek while Feliciano looked as if he was about to murder everyone in that bar. A strange tension rose at the table. Arthur almost didn't want to breathe in fear he released whatever anger Feliciano seemed to me brewing.

"Feliciano, are you alright?" Kiku went to put his hand on his friend's shoulder but Feliciano hurtfully batted it away.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped.

Ludwig groaned a tired look in his eyes. "I believe it's safe to say mission accomplished."

"Yes, you've broken them," said Arthur, laughing.

"What are you laughing at anyway you and your shit eyebrows," Feliciano hissed while Arthur's hand flew up to his rather unkept eyebrows. "They're like shit coloured caterpillars."

"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Feli," said Lovino, in a rather softer, more excitable voice.

"Oh, fuck you, you jerk!" Feliciano tripped over his words and almost fell onto his brother.

Arthur looked down at his watch. It was nearing two am and the bar was starting to die down. Arthur's own eyes were beginning to blur like crazy with alcohol and slight sleep deprivation.

"Perhaps we should just get home before things get ugly," Ludwig suggested, pulling on his own blazer.

Kiku and Arthur nodded in agreement of Ludwig. Since Feliciano was suddenly the more violent of the two both Kiku and Ludwig hoisted him to his feet and out the bar. Leaving Arthur in charge of Lovino. Lovino still had most control over his leg, which meant that Arthur only had to guide him slightly out the door.

Once outside Arthur turned to Lovino. "How are we all going to fit in a taxi?"

Lovino started to laugh slightly. "Ach, don't worry, amico! My friend lives just in that building there – I'll go crash at his."

Lovino stumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. Eventually he managed the task and dialled his friends number. He walked a little bit away from the group but his voice could still be loudly heard.

"Antonio! Baby!"

Kiku looked towards the piss-drunk Lovino, his face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought he hated Antonio?"

Ludwig struggled to keep Feliciano under control. The previously cheery Feliciano was no cursing every swear word under the sun at his large German friend, his hands balled up into fists. When Ludwig tried to restrain Feliciano, the Italian swung his hand and his fist collided with Ludwig's chin.

"Call a damn cab!" Ludwig yelled, pulling Feliciano's hand behind his back.

Arthur reached into his pocket and fumbled with the sleek gadget. Half was through dialling a taxi company he dropped his phone and accidentally called a wrong number. A strange foreign voice answered and he quickly hung up.

"Would you please hurry up!" Ludwig was having his will shortened by Feliciano's constant angry yelling.

"Bugger, I'm trying!" Arthur said, panicking. The alcohol in his system made his vision blurry and pushing a button on a digital keypad seemed like an impossible task.

A miracle happened where Arthur finally was able to call for a taxi. He gave the address of the bar then turned and the receptionist on the other end informed him a car should arrive shortly.

Lovino was still on the phone talking loudly to Antonio. He seemed to be having trouble convincing him to let him stay the night.

"Don't be so mean!" Lovino yelled, giggling loudly.

Arthur stopped eavesdropping in on Lovino's phone call as Feliciano started to yell again, this time his anger was towards Arthur.

"I mean really, fucking look at them!" Feliciano was still being restrained by Ludwig.

"Can you please leave my eyebrows alone," said Arthur, getting more and more irritated.

Kiku was trying his best to calm Feliciano down. Of course it wasn't working, the only thing stopping Feliciano from attacking everyone was Ludwig and his tree trunks for arms. It was strange seeing the Italian brother's act so differently now that they were drunk. Almost as if the two had completely swapped bodies.

Lovino joined the group for a final goodbye. He had managed to convince Antonio to let him stay, he seemed far too cheery about going there.

"Are you sure you'll be able to make it all the way there alone?" asked Kiku, a wrinkle of concern scrunched up on his forehead. "One of us should walk you-"

Lovino put up his hand in protest. His feet struggled to keep himself up and he was swaying in every direction. "Its fine, its fine," he cooed. "The apartment is just over there." He started to walk backwards while pointing, his words slurred in his mouth. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

He stumbled away down the road and was soon out of sight. Even after they could no longer see him his rather happy singing voice was heard long after he had departed from the group.

Not long after Lovino left a yellow taxi showed up outside the bar. Arthur slid into the front passenger seat leaving the others to sit in the back. Kiku and Ludwig sat beside Feliciano, who was still muttering insults at Ludwig.

"If he throws up in my car you gotta pay for it," said the cab driver, clearly annoyed.

"Don't worry he won't," assured Ludwig.

The driver asked for the address and Kiku gave his first – since he was closer to the bar than the others. The driver nodded and proceed to speed down the roads.

"You know both you and your brother sound like mornons. What with your ja's and your stupid accents," said Feliciano, slumped over Kiku.

"What does my brother have to do with this?" asked Ludwig, his patients with the Italian growing thinner and thinner.

Feliciano lifted his head turned towards Ludwig. His eyes had a strange fire in them as he scanned the large Germans face. For what seemed like an age he just stared right back at Ludwig. Clearly uncomfortable Ludwig shifted in his seat. Feliciano's resolve slowly started to fade as his body seemed to go limper, but he kept his eyes firmly on Ludwig.

Finally he said, "You look like him."

Ludwig knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "You mean Gilbert? Of course I do, he's my older-"

Feliciano cut him off. "Not him, the other one." His eyes were slowly blinking and the sternness in Feliciano's voice started to soften.

"Who are you talking about Feliciano?" Ludwig said, with a deep sigh hanging on his words.

"Gabri-"

Feliciano could no longer keep his eyes open and his body fell slowly onto Ludwig. Ludwig caught him and steadied his friends head on his shoulder. A soft snore tip toed out of the Italian's mouth as he lay on Ludwig's large shoulder, fast asleep.

"I'm going to kill him when he sobers up," said Ludwig, a strangely stern yet soft sound in his voice and a restrained smile on his lips and he watched the sleeping Italian.

_**A/N: **_

_**After searching online for a day or two I found out that a popular head cannon was that whenever the Italy brothers get drunk they switch personalities. Romano becomes more happy and upbeat while Italy turns bitter and violent. I thought the idea was funny and my sister gave me the idea of this scene so I used it.**_

_**Also another thing I found was that a common fan name for HRE was Gabriel. **_

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading/reviewing.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Drunkness**

Arthur barely remembered how he got home. It was all rather hazy to him. However, some how he was able to make it to his house and get into bed. It was around five in the morning when he woke up in a cold sweat. It was another nightmare about the boys. They were suffocating in those body bags with Arthur trying so hard to get them out.

"Fran-" Arthur shot up.

He reached over to the other side of the bed. His hand hovered over the empty space – Francis' space. For a while he just stared at the empty bed, slightly swaying as the alcohol was still in his system. Finally, with a dark frown on his face, he whipped the sheets off of his body and marched downstairs. With shaky hands he grabbed the packet of cigarettes which were lying on the kitchen counter. He took an old small bowl from inside one of the cupboards and used it as a substitute ashtray. He inhaled the first cigarette within seconds and swiftly moved to another. They weren't helping at all and so he went to the fridge, a third cigarette nestled between his fingers.

Many wine bottles were elegantly placed in the bottom of the fridge. He grabbed the first one his hand touched. After popping the cork he chugged down the clear liquid, hoping that his nightmare would soon be forgotten.

* * *

Francis stood in his kitchen, staring up at the clock. It was past noon and Arthur still hadn't picked up the twins. Alfred tried calling him but every time he never answered. Francis folded his arms across his chest and began drumming his fingers on his forearm.

"Alfred!" he called for his child, who soon came into the kitchen.

"Yeah, pops?" he asked, pushing up his glasses.

"Try your father again," Francis said, more than a little irritated.

"I just did like a second ago." Alfred took out his phone. "He's not gonna answer."

Matthew wandered into the kitchen. "Do you think something's wrong?" he asked, a worried frown on his face.

Francis scoffed a sigh. "He's most likely still in bed."

"Either way, we still need to get home," Matthew said. "Can't you just drive us there, papa?"

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose. Something was off to him, Arthur was never usually late. Sure once or twice he perhaps lost track of time and showed up ten minutes later but not hours. For Arthur, this was out of character and it worried Francis – not that he would ever admit it.

"Let's go." He patted his pocket, checking for his keys, and motioned the twins to follow him.

They walked down into the apartment parking lot with swift steps. Alfred called 'shot gun' and jumped into the front passenger seat. Matthew sat in the back seat still trying to call his father.

"Do you think something's happened to him?" he said, when no one answered.

"I'm sure he's fine," said Francis, clearly unsure. "He's most likely just drowning in paper work. You know what he's like."

Francis drove his way out of the parking lot and towards his old home. The whole drive there they sat in silence, with Alfred occasionally turning the radio on and off. Within just over thirty minutes they reached the house. Francis found it strange that Arthur's car wasn't in the drive way, but there was no reason for him to be out anywhere.

Alfred always forgot his house keys so it was up to Matthew to unlock the front door. A little too eagerly, Francis went in first and told the twins to stay in the living room while he checked the house. Matthew was going to protest his father's command but seeing the stern look on his face made him comply.

Once the twins were settled watching television in the living room, Francis went into the kitchen. The lingering aroma of toxic smoke tickled at his nostrils. An empty packet of cigarettes lay on the counter, with an old bowl stuffed filled with ash and buds. A sense of disappointment hit Francis' stomach. He remembered how hard it was for Arthur to give up the harmful habit and knew that if the twins saw the empty packet they'd surely be even more upset. He grabbed the packet along with the ash filled bowl and disposed of them in the silver bin. Just as he dropped the bowl a thud caused him to look up. Directly above from the kitchen was the master bedroom.

Hoping the twins hadn't heard the same sudden noise, he raced upstairs and stood at the door of his old bedroom. His hand hovered above the handle, he felt like an intruder standing in the home he used to live in. Even though he once shared the bedroom with Arthur he hesitated – at first – to go inside. Taking in one deep quick sigh, he pushed away such feelings and forced his way into the bedroom.

The first thing that hit him was the strong smell of wine. Many empty bottles cluttered the floor and Francis had to watch his step. When he opened the door a large bottle went across the room, luckily it stopped rolling and didn't smash when it reached the wall.

Francis' eyes wandered up from the floor and towards the bed. Before he left, the bed always was decorated with pillows and little stuffed animals. Francis did it purely for fun, Arthur always mocked the idea when they were married but he allowed it nevertheless. The bedroom itself was all decorated by Francis. The walls were a deep purple colour, the bedding normally was a hot scarlet shade, and the furniture in the room looked extremely extravagant. All that had been done away with thanks to Arthur. Instead of the bright colours which adorned the room, a dull saddening beige colour pallet filled it.

Francis stood still as he watched Arthur, his shirt half creased and half open, taking gulps from a bottle. Arthur turned towards the door, his face bright red, as he dropped the bottle. It landed on the floor with a hard thud but the bottle didn't break, wine spilled from the glass and stained the flooring. Fire lit up in his eyes as he noticed Francis.

Slowly, Francis closed the door, not wanting the twins to hear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed at his ex-partner.

"Whas it look like," Arthur said, his voice completely slurred.

Francis scrunched up his nose as the smell of alcohol burned into his nostrils. "God you're piss drunk."

Arthur stumbled up off the bed. He couldn't keep himself up right and his legs gave way, slowly he started to fall to the ground. Francis sprang into action and went to catch his former lover. Messily, he was able to steady Arthur, which was met by a negative response.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Arthur slurred, moving a closed fist towards Francis.

Since Arthur's movements were so slow and sloppy, Francis easily was able to move to the side and away from Arthur's punches. Arthur's fist kept traveling through the air. Tripping over nothing, he grabbed onto the first thing he could for support. Francis felt a tug at his shirt and the two crashed down onto the floor.

Arthur was faced down on the floor, his body no longer able to fully keep itself up. Francis pushed himself up on his knees and looked down at the Brit.

"Why did you do this?" he hissed. "The twins were worried sick!"

Arthur closed his eyes tightly; the thought of the twins seeing him like this stung his eyes. He didn't mean to drink so much; the only thing he wanted was a way to make his pain dull. It wasn't until Francis showed his face that he realised that the sun had even come up.

Francis was now staring intently at Arthur. The fall had caused Arthur's shirt to fall over his shoulder slightly. He found himself hypnotically transfixed to the exposed flesh. A strong sudden urge rose up inside of his stomach; he desperately wanted to touch him. He wanted to feel what Arthur's bare skin felt like. How long had it been since he was able to casually touch Arthur? Every single nerve in his body worked itself to breaking point stopping Francis', almost uncontrollable, impulse.

"Why did you do it?" Arthur said, his voice muffled by the floor.

Francis was taken aback slightly; a reddening blush bloomed on his cheek. He shook his head trying to rid said blush before speaking. "What are you talking about? Would you get up, you look pathetic just laying there. Drunker than a homeless man." He spat out the last part before standing up.

Arthur laid - his face pressed hard against the floor - for several moments. He heard Francis walk around the room, there was a clanking sound which Arthur guessed to be Francis picking up the empty bottles.

"Go in for a shower too. You reek of cigarette!"

Arthur pushed himself upwards and steadied his back against the bed frame. Alcohol still swirled through his system deeply but the sudden shock of Francis' presence made his head faintly clearer. He rolled his head to watch Francis patter around the room, picking up Arthur's mess.

"Why aren't you answering my question?" Arthur's tongue felt like rubber, he feared that it would suddenly fall from his mouth if he wasn't careful.

"I haven't the slightest idea as to what you are talking about!" Francis tried to lower his voice so the twins couldn't hear him.

"You know…you know bloody damn well what I'm on about!" Arthur threw his arms lazily on the bed.

Francis sighed as he dumped the empty bottles into a wicker basket. Pinching his temples he turned to face Arthur. Arthur's arms and head were slung over the edge of the bed across from Francis. The Brit's face was a bright drunken angry red, his unkempt eyebrows sternly lowered along with half shut eyes.

"I don't want to talk about this." Francis walked away into the en-suit bathroom just behind him. "Not while you're like this."

Rolling up his sleeves, Francis went towards the bath-tub and turned on the shower. Through the door he looked at Arthur would was stumbling to his feet. Francis watched in sheer exasperation as Arthur clumsily fell down on the bed. Francis sighed and went back into the bedroom. He stood over the bed, looking down at Arthur with his hands on his hips.

"Are you even going to make an effort, your own children and downstairs and you're acting more like a child than they are!" he couldn't keep back the yell in his voice.

Arthur flinched at Francis' loud demanding voice. He curled up on his side and looked up at his ex. "Answer my question."

Francis was taken back, he had hoped Arthur would drop the subject but it didn't look likely. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Why did you do it?" Arthur yelled back.

"I don't want to-"

Quickly, Arthur sat up. "Why did you sleep with her!?"

Outside the bedroom door Alfred had his ear pressed against the wood, listening to every word his parents said. Matthew pulled away when Arthur pointed out the massive elephant in the room. He couldn't take it, while they had never officially told the twins about Francis' affair the two boys knew. Actually hearing about what Francis had done put Matthew on the edge of breaking point.

"How can you listen to them?" he asked his brother.

"We have a right to know why our family is split," hissed Alfred, yanking his brother's arm back towards the door. "We need to listen to this."

"It was a mistake!" Francis yelled.

"Mistakes can be erased! Putting your dick in someone is not a mistake!" Arthur bellowed back, his speech slurred.

Matthew shook his head and pulled away from the door again. "I can't listen to this. We shouldn't be listening to this." He was on the verge of tears. "Please, Alfred, let's go back downstairs."

"No, I wanna hear this," Alfred said, his ear still pressed against the door.

"I was drunk! I barely remember her!" Francis retaliated.

"Oh, so that makes it all better then (!)" Arthur said, sarcastically. "Let's just kiss and make up shall we? I'm sure now I'll be able to take you back now you've said that!"

"My god, Arthur, stop trying to act as if the breaking of this family was my fault!" Francis' voice grew louder and louder. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm gonna take the kids back to mine-"

Footsteps made their way towards the door. Alfred pulled back slightly, fearing that he would be caught. Matthew stood against the wall, he didn't hear what Francis had said as he was too busy trying to compose himself.

"Don't you dare!"

There were some struggling noises just behind the door. Matthew looked up towards the door, hearing his parents arguing was heart-breaking on its own, but actually knowing the two were ready to fight each other was enough to made him turn cold. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to make the stop.

"Matthew, what are you-" Alfred cut himself off when Matthew yanked open the door.

Neither Arthur nor Francis seen the door opening otherwise they would have stopped at that very instant. Francis wouldn't have yanked his fist backwards, preparing himself to club Arthur in the head. His same fist then wouldn't have collided with Matthew's noise causing the teenager to fall backwards, clutching his nose in pain.

The two exes stood in horror as they looked at their son. Matthew narrowed his eyes and shot them a dark look. He felt blood dripping from his noise and quickly scurried to his feet and back downstairs.

"Matthew!" The two fathers reached their hands out towards their son but were stopped by Alfred.

"The both of you are just as bad as each other!" Alfred yelled, his legs shaking and face reddening. "Why don't the two of you stop fighting and see how badly this is impacting us?" He turned away and ran on the same path his brother took. "Mattie!" he yelled after his hurting brother.

Alfred flew down the stairs and into the bathroom where he heard the sound of running water. Mattie was hunched over the sink, splashing water on his bloody nose.

"Oh god, Matthew," Alfred put his hand on his brothers shoulder, upsettingly. "Those assholes. I can't believe they'd be so-"

"Alfred," Matthew said, sternly. "Please, I don't want to talk about them." He turned to the small mirror and looked at his swelling nose. "It's going to leave a bruise."

"We should take you to the emergency room," he said, worried about his brother.

Matthew shook his hand in protest. "I don't need to. I've been hit in the face with hockey putts plenty of times. There's no need to go."

"But still-"

"It's okay Alfred," Matthew said, in his usual calm hushed voice. "I just need some ice and a band aid."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Matthew nodded, turning off the tap.

Upstairs the two men had stopped fighting; Arthur was in the bathroom, dunking his face into the water filled sink, trying to sober up as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Francis sat on the foot of the bed, his face buried in his hands.

"I can't believe I just did that," he mumbled, shame filling up inside of him. "I need to go apologise."

"Don't!" called back Arthur. "Not right now. I need to sober up first."

"You right," Francis agreed, standing up and heading towards the dresser. "Which clothes do you want?"

Arthur stripped away his smoke smelling clothes and dumped them on the floor. He turned the shower temperature to freezing before stepping in and drawing the curtain. "The first ones you find."

Francis took out a grey t-shirt and jeans, he folded them and placed them on the toilet in the bathroom.

"We need to stop this all this fighting, Arthur," he said, walking out of the bathroom.

"We can't talk about that right now," Arthur said, the cold water heightening his dulled senses. "If we do we'll end up arguing again."

Francis went back to sit on the bed, his back to the bathroom. Matthews's dark glance was framed in his mind. He felt rotten for the pain he had caused, both emotionally and physically. Francis thought about how much the twins must have been hurting, he hadn't realized how much sorrow the twins felt, the two parents had been so busy wrapped up in their own life's that they couldn't see what they were doing to their own children.

After turning off the icy water, Arthur stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Quickly, he rubbed himself dry – not bothering with his damp hair. While he could still feel a woozy drunkenness lulling in his head, it wasn't as bad as before. He pulled on the fresh clothes and walked right past Francis and out of the bedroom.

"Stay there," he said, half way out the door. "Let me go talk to them first."

Francis was going to protest, however he thought that perhaps the two of them going at the twins together may overwhelm them, thus he stayed sitting on the bed.

* * *

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Hands**

Matthew and Alfred sat in the back seat of their father's car. It had been two days since their parents argued and they still hadn't seen Francis since. The swelling in Matthew's nose had gone down significantly. Matthew had decided to put the whole thing behind him, Alfred wasn't as forgiving. He wasn't going to stop giving his parents the cold shoulder.

"I'm going to stay late today," said Arthur, looking into the rear-view mirror. "Will the two of you be able to make it home yourselves? Also I've left some money – order a pizza or something."

"Sure thing, Dad," said Matthew, clutching the back of the driver's seat. He then looked at his brother and jerked his head slightly.

Alfred just rolled his eyes and didn't respond. Arthur saw his son's angsty behaviour and was growing very tired of it. "You cannot keep acting like this, Alfred. What your father and I did was wrong and I understand your feelings. But-"

"Do you want us to save you a slice?" Alfred said, cutting him off.

Alfred was sick to death about having to have serious talks with his parents. What he really wanted was for them to just get along. He wanted everything to go back the way it was.

Arthur was taken aback. He never expected for Alfred to respond with such a casual question. Letting out a small sigh of relief Arthur turned to his boys. "Please."

He stopped the car just outside of the school grounds. He knew parking was going to be a difficult job since it was Monday morning, so he decided to stop further away. Besides, some small exercise would have done the twins some good.

The two brothers grabbed their bags and got out of the car. They waved goodbye to their father and let out one big synchronised breath. They never thought that seeing school would bring them such joy.

Toris had brewed a fresh cup of coffee for both himself and his partner. The coffee which was supplied at the office tasted like dirt, so Toris always brought his own brand of coffee. He carried the two steaming mugs into Arthur's office – Toris' office was having some repairs and in the meantime he was to share Arthur's. Gently, Toris set down the mugs on the desk before heading back outside and to reception.

"Has the autopsy results come through, Cheryl?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the high desk.

Cheryl looked down at the many papers which littered the front desk. She picked up a dull yellow paper folder and handed it to the investigator. "Here you go, sir," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," Toris replied, taking the folder from her hands.

Just as Toris turned around the main doors swung open. Arthur waltzed inside the building with an exasperated look on his face.

"Morning, Arthur," said Toris, a happy grin on his face. "How was your weekend?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't want to know. Mornin', Cheryl."

"Morning, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur turned back to his partner and stopped the folder tucked under his arm. "Is that the autopsy?" He pointed at the folder.

"Yes," Toris said, untucking the folder from his arm and placing it between his fingers. "I was just about to go over it."

Arthur yanked the folder from his partner's hand. Nippily, he walked towards his office while opening the folder. Toris had to break out into a small jog in order to keep up with the Brit. By the time the two entered the officer Arthur had already glanced over the report. He had a confused look on his face.

"What is it?" asked Toris taking the chair opposite the desk.

Arthur put down the folder and rubbed his face. "Says here she'd been dead for three days before she was found. Seventeen stab wounds and no eyes."

"She looked pretty fresh to me," commented Toris.

"She was. Whoever did this to her preserved her body for a while after killing her." Arthur drew a disgusted look at the folder, as if it was the killer himself. "But why take the eyes?"

"Is there any evidence which points to our killer?" Toris asked, leaning forward.

Arthur shook his head. "None, but whoever did this is one nasty little-"

The telephone rang loudly in the officer, cutting off Arthur's insult. Arthur picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. "Hello, Arthur Kirkland speak-" Arthur sat up straight. "Yes. Uh-huh. Has anyone else looked her over? We'll be right there!"

Arthur slammed down the phone and had a sullen look on his face. Leaning forward, Toris steadied his elbows on his knees and waited for Arthur to speak. Arthur didn't want to speak, this was the part of his job he despised. Guilt made his stomach drop. For a long time he stared at the telephone, he would have to dial the number sooner or later. He just wished he could do it later.

"Do you have Lars Van Dyk's number?" he asked, stalling for time – he already knew the number.

"It should be in your desk," Toris said. "Why?"

Arthur reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper which held Mr. Van Dyk's contact information. He didn't answer Toris' question, instead he started down at the piece of paper. Clipped to the corner of the paper was a photograph of his smiling sister – Emma that was her name! She seemed so innocent, so kind, so pure. Arthur gently took the photo and put it in his pocket before standing up from his chair.

"I thought you were going to call Mr. Van Dyk?" Toris said, snapping to his feet also.

"I can't right now," Arthur said, patting his pocket double checking he had actually put the photograph in it. "Pray that whoever called me just now was a fucking prankster."

He bit out the words with such venom that Toris stepped back slightly. Toris had known Arthur long enough to read his emotions like an open book. The emotion Arthur had on his face was a cocktail of sorrow, rage with a hint of remorse.

Pushing past his partner Arthur walked out of his office. He left his suit blazer, the sun outside was blazing down its scorching rays.

Francis made a quick phone call to his restaurant. It had been a while since he checked in and he hoped the place wasn't falling apart without him.

"**Hello**, Bonnefoy Brasserie," chimed a voice on the other line. "Adnan speaking. How may I be helping you?"

"Adnan?" said Francis.

"Francis!? How is the hanging? I didn't expect a call from you," said the Turkish man.

"I thought I'd just check in," remarked Francis, sitting down the couch. "How is the place? Sorry I haven't been in for a while."

There was a hearty laugh on the other end of the phone. "Everything is finer than fine!" Adnan said, with refreshing confidence. "There's no need to get yourself all worried 'bout here!"

Francis smiled. "Yes, I thought so." Francis let out a gentle sigh. "I'll maybe come in during this week," he informed the Turkish man.

"Make sure you be taking it easy, man," Adnan said, with genuine concern for his business partner. "I would be guessing things aren't very good right now?"

Francis let his head fall backwards to rest on the edge of the couch. "You would be right," he said, rubbing the space between his eyes. "Things aren't going well at all."

Francis flinched slightly as he remembered the dark glare his son gave him two days ago. He was truly disgusted with himself for doing such a despicable thing. Francis knew he shouldn't have gone into that room, he should have left when he had the chance. If he had just done that then Arthur would be the bad parent and Francis wouldn't have punched his own kid in the face.

"I'm sorry to run off like this but I gotta go takes care of somethings," said Adnan, clearly in a hurry.

"Of course," Francis muttered, sitting up properly. "I'll see you later." He hung up the phone before Adnan could say his goodbyes back.

Francis dropped his phone onto the couch and exhaled heavily. He realized, as he sat alone in his elegantly decorated apartment, how bored he really was. He thought about calling either Gilbert or Antonio but after looking at the clock he guessed the two would be settled at work. He stood up and walked towards the window. It looked like it would be another beautiful day, which Francis didn't want to waste. It had been a while since he just took a stroll around the town. The day was warm enough so he left his coat and sauntered down into the street.

The street was strangely busy with people in police uniforms and suits. Francis decided to be nosey and take a look at what all the fuss was about. He found the main commotion was just outside a small allyway. He was able to push himself just behind a line of police tape. He froze up when he saw a familiar sprout of bright blond hair and bushy eyebrows.

Quickly Francis walked away from the place, with his head down.

Arthur was talking to one of the police on the scene. He took down notes into his pad before going to see the body. Toris was snapping pictures of the scene.

Arthur's breath got caught in his throat as he looked down at the body. It was Lars Van Dyk's little sister. Her face was seemingly untouched, her eyes were closed but her mouth hung open. Even though Arthur knew it was that girl he still had to check. He pulled on a glove and started to poke around in the girls pockets. He found her wallet inside her trouser pocket. Nothing was taken from it; it was thick with bills and coins.

"They didn't take anything from her?" he questioned.

"Actually they did," said an officer, pointing to the sleeves of the girls brown leather jacket.

Arthur hadn't noticed it at first, but the girl was missing both her hands. His eyes moved along the girl's body, there was something familiar about it. At first he couldn't quiet put his finger on it that was until he saw her neck.

Her shirt was slightly covering the pussing wound on her neck. He opened her eyes but they were still intact.

"Toris!" Arthur flagged over his partner.

Toris took one more picture before strolling beside Arthur. "What is it?"

"This is the same as that school girl," Arthur said, looking down at the girl.

"Are you sure?" asked Toris.

Arthur nodded his head. "It's the same style. Killing wound across the neck, fresh looking body, a missing body part, multiple stab wounds. It's all the same."

Toris bent down and studied the girl. "But he took the eyes last time."

"That's what is confusing me."

Arthur turned away and went towards a few officers who were standing by the police tape. He gave the officer his card and asked him to relay his contact details to whoever was doing the post mortem. The officer took a look at the card before nodding.

"Of course, Mr. Kirkland," he politely said, before walking away.

Arthur went back to his partner. Toris stood up from examining the young girl's body, he had a strange look in his eyes. Arthur interpreted it as sadness, or disgust. "It's horrific. Isn't it?"

Toris nodded but didn't say a word. This was this first really gruesome case the two had worked on. Arthur put his hand on his partners shoulder and gave him a smile. "I'm going to make sure we catch whoever did this."

Toris gulped as he turned his gaze away from the girl.

"We should head back to the office and look over our findings; I already got the witness statements from the other officers," Arthur said, putting his hand in his pocket, fingering the girls picture. "I'm going to let head office know this is to be our priority case from now on."

Arthur pulled out his phone and dialled his boss' number. Toris watched as the British man exchanged short words with the head. The conversation was short and to the point. Arthur motioned his hand for Toris to follow him out past the police tape. They were hassled by a few media outlets but the police were able to cut away most of their attention. All put one.

Arthur had just hung up his mobile phone a woman rushed up to him, a pen and pad in her hand.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kirkland," she said, a strong Hungarian accent flowing from her mouth.

Arthur didn't see her approach him from behind. Before Arthur had any chance at giving her a response, she flew into a flurry of questioned.

"Do you think this murder is related to Bethany Cross? Do you know why this killer would take certain body parts? Does this perhaps have any connection with the girl that went missing this morning?" Her questioning was too quick for Arthur to take in, except for the last one.

Arthur shot Toris a look, and Toris nodded.

"I don't have time for your questioning today," Arthur said rather rudely before adding, "Ma'am."

Arthur held up his hand trying to shoo her away. The two detectives pushed past her and went towards their car. Toris quickly slid into the driver's seat. The reporter followed after Arthur as he got into the other side of the car.

"Look sweetheart, I am kind of busy trying to catch a killer." He looked her in the eye. "So please bugger off before you annoy me even more."

Arthur tapped Toris on the shoulder and he sped off down the street.

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Missing**

When they reached the office, Arthur asked Toris to fetch him a white board while he made some calls. A girl had been reported missing that morning. Arthur printed out some information about the girl, along with her photograph.

The poor little girl was only eleven years old and hadn't shown up for school that day. According to a statement made by the parents the girl was shy and it was unusual for her not to arrive at school. Her age – and the fact that she was the daughter of some important local political figure – is what made her disappearance such a concern.

Toris wheeled in a large whiteboard into the office and set it in front of the wall. Arthur grabbed a pile of papers and photographs and stuck them onto the wall. He stuck the photographs of the three girls at the very top of the board. Underneath the pictures he placed the corresponding pieces of paper, such as their personal information, time of disappearance and the statements people had given regarding them.

Arthur looked at the information Emma's brother had given them. He stared at the brother's name and sighed.

"Do you want me to call him?" asked Toris.

Arthur shook his head. "I'll do it." He rubbed at his jawline. "Could you make me some tea please?"

"Sure thing," Toris nodded and walked out of the room.

As soon as Toris exited, Arthur yanked the phone and punched in Mr. Van Dyk's phone number. Three rings it took until Lars answered, his voice monotone.

"Mr. Van Dyk, it's Arthur Kirkland from the-"

"A police officer already called me. She's all over the news," his voice didn't change. "When do I get her body?"

Arthur coughed. "After the post-mortem, sir," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Arthur hated this part. The first time he had to do this was with a mother of a seven-year-old girl. She had gone missing too, the mother came to the office pleading for someone to find her child. They found her in a river. Arthur almost broke down in sobs himself when he had to inform her mother. The mother screamed down the phone, begging for him to be lying.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Kirkland."

The phone clicked silent but Arthur stayed with the receiver on his face. Even though his voice was in one steady tone Arthur could tell the man was broken. Lars was all alone now, in some foreign place without his, seemingly, bubbly sister.

Arthur remembered at how difficult it was for him when he first moved from the UK. He had mostly done it to spite his traditional parents. At eighteen years old, all Arthur wanted to do was be some kind of rock star. That dream was soon beaten out of him when he realised playing the guitar outside barely got him any pennies. What made things worse was the fact that he had done everything alone – if Kiku hadn't helped him that day goodness knows what would have happened.

Toris walked in holding a cup of tea. Arthur thanked him and took the mug. He stared at the board, trying to find a connection between the two girls.

"Emma had all of her money still intact, so money isn't a motive," mumbled Arthur, bringing his mug to his face.

"There was no sexual assault either," said Toris, sitting on the desk.

Arthur set down his mug and walked up to the board. "They both were stabbed seventeen times after they were killed. Why would he do that?"

"Whoever he is he must be strong enough to do it seventeen times," commented Toris.

Arthur nodded and looked at the pictures of the first girl. "Bethany has defence bruises up and down her arm. Emma doesn't. Actually," Arthur looked deeply at the post-mortem images of the second victim. "Other than the stab wounds, she has no other marks. Yet Bethany does. Why is that?" Arthur muttered the question to himself.

Toris stretched his arms above his head and let out a tired groan. "I don't know, but what I do know is that it's lunch time."

Arthur turned to his partner and let a smile crack the line on his face. "You're right." Arthur moved over to his desk chair and pulled of his blazer. "Any ideas?"

"Some place cheap and in close proximity," Toris said – half jokingly. "And with a drive-through."

* * *

Alfred never noticed it but he really hated the fact that he never shared any classes with Matthew. More than ever, he wanted his brother to constantly be at his side. Every time someone gave him their condolences he felt like he wanted to break down. He went to school hoping to get away from his parents, not to be constantly reminded of them.

Although, he did find comfort during the lunch break.

Matthew was busy with hockey practice and wasn't anywhere to be found, but that wasn't who Alfred searched for in the chaotic cafeteria. His eyes finally fell upon a busty blonde girl. Alfred slammed his lunch tray onto the table, startling the girl.

"Dude! Stop!" she said, jumping out of her seat. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?" she punched his upper arm.

Alfred began giggling like a maniac as he replayed his friend's expression over and over in his head, until he could no longer breathe.

"Aw, man," he wiped at his eyes. "Oh, god. You're face. Aw, it was just the best thing ever."

"Shut it douche!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aw, come on Amelia." Alfred playfully kicked her under the table. "You can't stay mad at me."

Amelia booted Alfred's shin with her own foot. He yelped in pain and brought his leg up to his chest. "Okay, that wasn't funny!"

Amelia scoffed out a laugh as she went back to eating her lunch.

"So how was your days off?" asked Amelia. "I wish my parents got a divorce so that I could get some days off school-" Amelia stopped herself when she saw the dismal look darkening Alfred's face. "I'm sorry!" she quickly said. "God, that is completely insensitive! I'm sorry, Al! God I'm a moron."

Alfred leaned his head on his knuckles and looked at his worried friend. "Can we just change the subject?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Uh, s-sure," mumbled Amelia, a guilty feeling setting deep within her gut. "Oh, did you hear about Bethany Cross, one of our under-classmates?"

Alfred shook his head, he never really bothered about the news, nor the students who were in the years below him. Although he had heard of Bethany. She was supposed to be a rather popular with the rest of her classmates.

"She was murdered," Amelia said, with a low voice. "I'm surprised no one's told you. The other day the school was going nuts about it."

"Do they know who did it?" asked Alfred.

Amelia shook her head and sipped at her drink. "Though another girl was killed in the same way she was."

"No way!" Excitement grew inside Alfred. "Our town has a serial killer?"

"Looks like it, hey isn't your dad a detective?" said Amelia, bringing out her phone and scrolling through the internet.

"Yeah, though he never talks about his work," muttered Alfred.

"I think someone wrote an article on him, and not a very nice one." Amelia handed Alfred her phone which had a small time journalist article on it.

Alfred scrolled down the page and with each word fury grew inside his gut. The woman that wrote it made his father out to be an incompetent detective who cursed at her.

"There's no way, Dad would curse at a reporter!" exclaimed Alfred. "She must've twisted it, that's what those people do." He handed Amelia back her phone. "Besides, Dad is an awesome detective!"

"I thought she was making it up," Amelia agreed. "Your dad was always real nice to me. I can even imagining him cursing."

"Oh, he curses like a sailor at times," chuckled Alfred. "Don't forget he comes from the UK. They're not all posh snobs."

Amelia let out a giggle as she finished the last of her food. "I thought British men were supposed to be gentlemen?"

"The old man likes to think he is," muttered Alfred, casually. "The only gentlemanly thing he does is wear a suit."

The two finished of the rest of their lunch, a strange silence waved over them. Alfred checked his watched and groaned loudly when he noticed there was only ten minutes left of their lunch break.

"Why don't we just skip?" suggested Amelia, leaning closer with a sly smirk on her face. "I've got my car; we could drive to your place?"

Alfred raised his eyebrow. "Why my place?"

"Do you want to help my mom with farm work?" Amelia groaned.

When Alfred was first introduced to his best friend's parents he was struck with a weird sense. Her parents just didn't seem to go together. Eduard, her father, was originally from Estonia and worked for a large computer company. While her mother, Yekaterina, was a Ukrainian woman who owned a farm house way into the countryside. Until he met the couple Alfred was in the dark about Amelia's adoption. When he did finally meet them it was as clear as day. The two teenagers grew even closer after the revelation.

Alfred scrunched up his face as he pictured himself shovelling away varies animal faeces. Amelia noticed his disgusted expression and smirked.

"Thought so," she said. "So are we leaving or not?"

Alfred rolled the idea in his head for a few moments. He knew the two wouldn't get caught as Arthur would still be bogged down at his office. It just meant that Matthew would give him a guilt trip for leaving him to go home alone. All in all, the odds seemed to be in his favour.

"Let's hurry before one of the teachers notice."

* * *

Arthur had been bubbling with rage all afternoon; he could barely even focus on paperwork. All he could think about was that Hungarian woman's article.

"I never swore at her!" he yelled, to no one in particular.

"I know," murmured Toris, who was busy at his desk finishing his own paperwork.

Arthur threw down his pen, discarding his paperwork in favour of brooding. "Besides she followed us! She was stopping me from doing my job!" he scoffed. "What a bloody-"

Just as Arthur was about to curse out the woman, the phone rang. Arthur picked it up, his eyebrows furrowing and a scowl on his lips. "Hello?" he said, more harshly than he intended to.

Toris turned in his chair to watch his partner as he had a short conversation. He tried to hold in a laugh as he remembered the article. While the reporter hadn't named Arthur himself, the two knew whom she was talking about. Toris still had the article loaded up onto his computer and went back to look at it. 'One detective I spoke to – who had the most ridiculous eyebrows ever known to exist – refused to comment and instead swore when I tried to receive information on the tragically missing little girl'. Toris coughed back a laugh as he re-read the line.

Arthur hung up the phone and stood up. "That was Cheryl," he said, still angry. "The post mortem has been done on Emma Van Dyk. We should go speak to the doctor."

Toris nodded, biting his lip to stop his snicker.

"Would you quick bloody laughing," Arthur tutted, strolling out of the office. "It's not that funny!"

Toris quickly followed his partner. "From where I'm standing it's pretty hilarious."

"Oh really? You think this is funny?" muttered Arthur. "How about you do all of the paperwork for this case? Then we'll see who's laughing so much."

The two men walked out of their office. With Toris trying hard to keep his childish giggles at bay. Throughout the journey to the hospital, Arthur sat with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. He didn't care if he was being childish about the whole situation; he had the right to be.

Toris was trying hard to get Arthur to quit his brooding act.

"Can we just forget that sodding article exists and pay attention to the murder case? Please?" he said, as the two made their way to the main desk.

Toris happily agreed before turning his attention to the receptionist. The man behind the desk looked at their badges and took them down to the basement. There they met the coroner who took them to see Emma's corpse. The man walked them through what he had discovered most of it Arthur already knew. The killing blow was the slash to the neck; afterwards the killer stabbed Emma's seventeen times with a sharp object; he then preserved her for a day after she was murdered.

"Can you tell us how she was preserved?" Arthur asked.

The man nodded and took a small glance down at his chart. He seemed to be in a rush and really didn't want Arthur nor Toris to be in his domain. "Alcohol."

"Alcohol?" questioned Arthur. "A body can be preserved like that?"

"Oh, certainly," said the doctor. "A woman once kept her dead son perfectly preserved by keeping him in alcohol and dressing him in bandages."

The story made Toris shiver, or perhaps it was the fact that he was in a room filled with dead bodies.

Arthur rubbed his chin. "Is there any particular way to do this?"

"My guess is that whoever did this kept in her something big enough to hold that much liquid and a dead body," muttered the doctor.

Arthur clicked his fingers. "Like a bath?"

"That must be very expensive," said Toris. "How much alcohol would it take to fill an entire bath?"

"Do you know what type of alcohol it was?" asked Arthur.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know which brand but I'd guess some kind of spirit."

"Vodka?" asked Arthur.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders before writing into his chart. "Have you gotten everything, because I'm a little busy?" The doctor gestured slightly towards the other dead bodies behind him.

Arthur nodded before shaking the doctor's hand. "I'll be in touch if I need anything."

The two detectives gave polite nods at the doctor before hastily strolling out of the cold blue basement.

_**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading/reviewing.**_


End file.
